


Christmas Shopping at Macy's

by Citlali



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Overstimulation, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citlali/pseuds/Citlali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daredevilkinkmeme prompt:<br/>I don't even have super senses and I get overstimulated and anxious in large department stores and malls. I imagine that for Matt they are basically hell on earth.</p><p>So Foggy invites Matt for some Christmas shopping the first year they are friends and Matt is too polite to say no. He has never subjected himself to a large department store but he imagines it to be Not Good for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Shopping at Macy's

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/6237.html?thread=11551069#cmt11551069
> 
> Thank you DalamarF16 for being an awesome beta!!!!

Even with a death grip on Foggy’s arm and coat sleeve, it’s was virtually impossible to find his way around.

It wasn’t Foggy’s fault. It was not. Matt had agreed to this in a moment of utter insanity. Why? Because Foggy asked, that’s why. Damn it. From the moment he had met his roommate, it had been a problem. Foggy was a tornado of good will and Matt had no defences against him.

How was Matt supposed to believe Foggy when he had said he had grown up in Hell’s Kitchen? How was that even possible? Was he raised by a little old fairy godmother somewhere isolated in a tower? How could anyone grow up in Hell’s Kitchen and still turn out so maddeningly sincere? It would have been better to get stuck with a drunken frat-boy slob. Matt knew how to deal with assholes much better than he knew how to deal with anyone exhibiting genuine friendliness.

Matt wouldn’t trade Foggy for anything.

But he had been an idiot to agree to go Christmas shopping at Macy’s with him.

> _“Matt. Matt, please! I’d go alone, but what’s the fun in that? We’ll make a day of it, I’ll describe the window displays. Had you ever seen the window displays before the accident?”_
> 
> _“No.”_
> 
> _“Okay, well now you can. Not see them, of course, but the next best thing, full Foggy-vision. Surround sound and audience participation and everything. Come on, it’s no fun going there alone.”_

And Matt had agreed.

And now there he was. In hell. Literal hell, because there was no way biblical hell could be worse than this.

For one, there was the jacket he had chosen to wear. It was cold outside so he had put on his poofy ski jacket and, yes, it was great outdoors, but inside he felt like he was going to drown in his own sweat if he didn’t take if off soon. He couldn’t take if off, though, because there was nowhere to put it. Carrying the jacket wasn’t an option because in one hand he was clutching onto Foggy for dear life so as not to get lost in the throng of christmas shoppers, and in the other he was gripping his white cane in an attempt to advertise that *Hey! Blind here. If you bump into me it’s your own fault because I can’t see you.

That didn’t work anyway. He was still being jostled on all sides by shoulders and bags, getting cursed at under the breath, which he could hear perfectly well with his heightened senses, because he wasn’t watching where he was going. Yes. Blind. Thank you very much for noticing.

His heightened senses weren’t doing him any other favours either. Through the constant drone of voices: the petty arguments over what colour of socks to buy, what size would fit, and what brand of aftershave does uncle Tim use. On top of that there was the piped Christmas music playing over what felt like randomly spaced speakers on the ceiling; garlands waving and shivering from air vents; the background hum of what must have been thousands of lights; noise displays of plastic Santa’s ho-ho-ho-ing; the tinny ring of music boxes and mechanical engines spinning squeaking gears. Then there were the smells, why did everyone insist on bathing in cologne or perfume before venturing out the door? Body odour, too, because everyone was wearing parkas indoors while seemingly running a marathon. Perfume displays, sample booths, and scent cards. All those things were mixing together into a deafening cacophony and he was struggling to not get overwhelmed.

His eyes were still watering from the recent drive by scent-bombing of a Macy’s employee selling a celebrity’s newest brand of fragrant torture.

Hell. This was hell.

“How are you doing, buddy? You look kind of wasted.” Foggy gripped his shoulder lightly and turned him around and backed him up a bit into, what was that? Matt kind of felt like he was being parked.

Yep. Exactly like being parked. Foggy’s hand disappeared a moment later and Matt awkwardly groped at Foggy’s arm before he could disappear into the sea of anarchy around them.

“Matt, you okay?” Foggy asked again, and he couldn’t miss the concern in his tone.

“Fine.”

_Please get me out of here._

“The bag Candace wants should be in the racks over there to the left, there’s a bunch of people and it will only take a minute to find the right one. She gave me a picture and everything, so it shouldn’t be too hard, right? Anyway it’s really crowded and I don’t want to drag you into that mess.”

It was crowded everywhere.

“Do you want to wait for me here?”

Matt planted his hand against the wall as if it was an anchor. There, at least, he could breathe a little easier, no one was rubbing up against him or pushing him out of the way. “How do I find you?”

“I’ll come back for you. It will only take a minute.” Foggy promised, and then he was gone.

Not just walked away gone, but gone. Matt couldn’t hear him talking, he couldn’t hear his footsteps, he couldn’t hear his heartbeat. He had lost Foggy and he was alone in Macy’s and he was too turned around to even know where to begin finding his way out.

Foggy had only been gone for thirty seconds.

Rationally, Matt knew he should be relishing the relative peace of being out of the way of the crowd. If Foggy couldn’t find him again, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Matt would find his way or he could ask someone to lead him to the nearest exit. He knew how to navigate the city just fine, better than most people, in fact. Outside he’d be fine and his senses would go back to normal and everything would be. Just. Fine.

Then why was it so hard to breathe?

He needed to concentrate on something else. He just had to choose what. He sorted through the noise, catching bits of conversation. What to get grandma/Uncle Chuck/cousin Suzy for Christmas. Does this look good? This is too expensive.

“Debbie!” A young woman’s voice caught his ear. She didn’t sound much older than Matt and Foggy, and she seemed to be terrified. He listened to her quickened breath, her pulse speeding, uncertain steps. “Debbie!”

Matt took a tentative step forward, leaving the security of the wall behind him and heading in her direction.

She was walking in an erratic circle, her movements quick and shaky.

She stepped past Matt and he reached out and tapped her arm. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t find my daughter.” Her voice was high with anxiety. “She’s only three. I just turned my back for a second and she was gone. Have you seen her? She’s about this tall, she’s wearing a red jacket.” Matt sensed her arm wave at about waist height. She turned around and stopped. “Oh. You’re blind. Sorry.”

She turned again to walk away but Matt caught up with her. “Maybe I can help. I can’t see, but sometimes I notice on things other people miss.” He offered. “Where did you last see her?”

“Right here.” She turned again and Matt felt the air currents swirl around his hand as she moved. “We were over by the coats.” She left and walked a few yards back towards the coat section. Matt followed and wrinkled his nose against the onslaught of factory scented leather and down filling.

The distraught mother barely glanced at him again before carrying on calling for her daughter. “Debbie!”

Matt stood very still, reaching his senses out, both narrowing and expanding his focus at once. He listened for heartbeats. Childrens hearts were distinctly different from adults. Children’s heartbeats were faster, lighter. There.

“When I was little.” He lied. “My grandmother used to bring me to the department store and when things got overwhelming, I tended to hide inside the turning racks. It’s kind of like a tent.” He took a few steps to the right and ran his hand along the puffy nylon full length jackets and pushed a few aside.

The young mother released a breathless sob and surged forward, reaching into the display and pulling out the little girl crouched in the middle, picking her up and squeezing her tightly in a firm embrace. “What were you thinking? You scared me so bad!”

“Mommy, I’m tired. Can we go home?” The little girl yawned.

The young woman turned back to Matt. “How did you do that?”

Matt shrugged. “Just a lucky guess.”

“Thank you so much.” She hugged her daughter again. “Merry Christmas!” She said warmly and walked away.

Matt smiled. It felt good to help someone, to do something useful. He felt good.

And then he realised he was in the women’s coat section and he couldn’t remembered where he’d come from, because as soon as he had finished helping the mother find her daughter the chaos of the store had swept back into his brain and blew apart all sense of equilibrium and space he’d temporarily gained.

He was lost. In Macy’s.

Where was Foggy?

He spun around as a hand pressed against his back, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

Foggy.

“Hey, how’d you end up over here?” Foggy asked.

“I got turned around.” Matt explained. “Did you find the bag your sister wanted?”

“Yeah. Right colour and everything. She’s going to love it. Thanks for coming with me, I know this can’t be all that fun for you, but I really appreciate your company.”

“No problem.” Matt answered. He found Foggy’s elbow and curled his fingers around his arm.

“Ready to get out of here? I know an awesome little cafe about a block away with the best hot chocolate; they even use real whipped cream, not the canned stuff. My treat. And I’ll describe the window displays we pass along the way. Only the interesting ones though. Sometimes they can be a little abstract and I don’t even know what I’m looking at.” Foggy kept up a steady stream of chatter as he led Matt to the nearest check out counter, then down the escalator, and thankfully finally out of the door.

The world around him slowly returned to its familiar shapes and forms. They passed a display of an old fashioned miniature railroad and Foggy described the green plaster mountains covered in tiny trees, tunnels and bridges complete with a little town and shops nestled in a valley. Matt listened to the little train through the glass, getting his own picture of the display inside as it rattled around in an elaborate circle.

He wondered if next year Foggy would want to go the Macy’s again. He wondered if he would say yes. He supposed it wasn’t that bad. It was the weekend, they weren’t in any rush and it was fun just hanging out together.

And then there was the best hot chocolate Matt had ever tasted.

**Author's Note:**

> Cookies and Comments... always welcome.


End file.
